Guilt
by Fencer22
Summary: Taylor triggers with the ability to force an entire city to confront their sins, how will they react and what will be the fallout? Warning: this is not a nice story. There will be deaths and suicides along with other miscellaneous horrors. I do not own Worm. Now complete
1. Taylor

Disclaimer: I do not own Worm, I am to lazy/forgetful to put this message at the top of every post so just don't forget that I told you, or check the description for the same disclaimer.

Guilt Taylor

I woke up still in the locker, still trapped; I could barely breathe from the smell of it all and the sensation of bugs crawling over my skin and the filth that clung to me, all of it was overwhelming.

A part of me reached out and _felt_ the area around me lit up like a Christmas tree, in shades of red, black, grey and brown. Then came the images.

Flashes, scenes moments; a carnival of sin flowed past my eyes.

A boy pinning a girl against a wall as he kissed her, and she squirmed trying to get away.

A computer screen filled with an image of a naked child.

A bag of white powder exchanging hands.

A group of white teens mercilessly beating a black man.

Theft.

Bullying.

Murder.

Infidelity.

Arson.

Rape.

Racism.

And amidst it all, again and again I watched myself shoved into the locker from dozens of angles, heard my own cries for help as the locker passed in and out of my line of sight.

It _disgusted_ me. Wrong. All of it was so wrong and yet they went about their day as if they deserved the right to sleep peacefully when they went home at night. That thought more than anything triggered a rage within me.

Here they were polluting a world that was already beyond fucked up, and acting like it was their God given right to trample on others. And in that moment the filth I was trapped with seemed inconsequential. What was physical filth, no matter how disgusting, in comparison to all the human garbage which surrounded me?

It was nothing and these _people_ who were pretending to be human were both less and more. They all held even less value in my eyes yet they were so much more in that they spread their decay to those they persecuted.

An inarticulate scream worked its ways out past my teeth at the injustice of it all, and in the wake of that scream silence fell.

All day there had been at least some scattered noise that I could hear from within my metal coffin but now absolute silence had fallen.

For about a minute that silence remained unbroken before the sound of crying filled the air. At first it was a soft noise barely more than a sniffle but it grew in volume as more voices joined the first.

Then came the muttering, the murmurs seemed to grow in volume although the words were lost in the growing cacophony. Finally came the shouts and the screams. Denials filled the air, but so too did apologies, screams of 'have mercy' and other shouts. And over it all was the growing sound of shoes smacking against linoleum. At first it was only a single set of feet but quickly the noise grew until it drowned out everything else, and it was drawing closer.

"We have to get her out of there!"

"Does anyone know the combination?"

"Fuck the combination! Just rip the God damn door off!"

"Someone call an ambulance! With that shit she's in there with she's going to need it!"

"And the cops! Someone call the damn cops! It'll be about time those fucks did something useful for a change!"

The rest of the shouts became hard to understand. I could feel my consciousness slipping away even as loud bangs started to come from the door in front of me. Despite the situation I couldn't help but smile. They could learn, could be prodded to take responsibility for their actions, and to better the world around them.

Maybe now things could finally start to get better.

As the locker door came off its hinges and light spilled inside my smile grew. Truly this would be the beginning of change, change for the better.


	2. Sophia

Guilt: Sophia

In spite of my best efforts I couldn't fight the grin tugging at the edges of my mouth. Even Mrs. Nuggent's boring ass class couldn't hamper the high I was riding on right now.

Two days. It took Emma, Madison and I two days to collect all of the shit we stuffed into Hebert's locker. God had that been disgusting, but now…

Heh.

Now it was easily ten times worse, and we had stuck Hebert in there.

It was all I could do not to start laughing at the memory of her screaming to 'let her out'. Stupid uppity bitch, no one helps prey. Prey gets left behind and dies.

Heh, maybe the stupid bitch would actually die in there! Hmm though that could be a problem… If she did end up dying the school might be forced to investigate. I doubt many people would risk turning on Emma and I, but still better safe than sorry…

Maybe we could send Madison to the Janitor with a complaint about the fact that Hebert's Locker was stinking up the entire hallway? That would get her out of there and would even help cover our asses. Still though couldn't let her out too soon or she wouldn't learn anything from the experience.

My grin took on a vicious edge at the thought of her staying in there for another two or three more hours.

I wonder if one of the teachers would hear her screaming before we sent the jan-

 **Spinning clusters of light,**

 **Massive forms moving through space eclipsing stars as they move.**

"Sophia, Sophia are you all right?" Mrs. Nuggent asked.

"Huh." The hell just happened?

"You collapsed onto your desk dear, are you alright? Do you need to go to the nurse?"

Collapsed? What the fuck? I don't collapse, I might sleep through some classes but I don't faint or collapse or any of that shit! What the fuck-

A scream ripped through the air. It was Raw, primal full of hate, and pain. Impossibly loud and clear, it filled me with dread.

And then something changed. My mind froze and memories bubbled up to the surface, memories I was familiar with and yet they were different.

The corner of Lord Street, and Washington, on the edge of the docks, this is where I killed my first ganger. I had missed his shoulder and punctured a lung. Only I had shot him from a roof so why was I standing in the street. Pain, hot and sharp lanced through my left side a crossbow bolt sticking all the way through me and out my chest. Through my lung, my breath was labored. I was choking on blood and I couldn't even breath properly.

Fuck! No! Not like this God damn it! I'm not _Prey,_ I'm a _Predator_ damn it all!

A shadow loomed over me.

"Fuck you, you weak fuck, this is exactly what you deserve." I tried to scream back at the hockey mask that was speaking to me in my own voice but all that came out was a wet gurgle.

Things began to get blurry and slowly the world faded to black as I panicked.

My eyes snapped open.

No. No! No, no, no. Not again!

George Street, just past the quickie Mart on the roof of a warehouse no one had used in years. Spinning around there I was Hockey mask and crossbows, cloak wafting dramatically in wind blowing off of the bay.

In the blink of an eye my world exploded in pain as an arrow buried in each of my knees, I screamed in pain as my legs gave out and I fell back onto my ass my head and shoulders hanging over the edge of the warehouse.

"You Nazi fuck. You're a stain, a waste of space." The figure stomped down hard on one of my shot up knees.

I screamed, I'd never been in so much pain in my life before and I screamed and screamed and screamed. And while I screamed I could hear my voice chuckling darkly. A kick to my side caused me to jerk a half foot towards the edge of the roof.

I remember this, only one story up I thought he was sure to survive, but he landed just wrong and snapped his neck.

Another kick and I was over the edge falling headfirst I watched as the pavement came rushing up to meet me.

Darkness

More memories shorter now, a man whose hand I skewered with a bolt after he was already down. The dumbass I watched get beaten to death because he didn't even fight back. Shoving Hebert down the stairs. The chick I left to be raped because she hadn't fought back. Bashing Hebert's flute with a brick and rubbing it in dog shit. Blinding that merchant by breaking a glass bottle across his eyes when he was already on his last legs. Stealing homework from a half dozen classmates. Taunting Missy about being an immature little squirt.

The locker, being shoved face first into the pile of used pads and tampons reeking of stale blood. Puke flowing out of my mouth and down my shirt as laughter, my own and others echoed in my ears, taunting me, tormenting me, damning me with each sick and twisted giggle.

I'm a sick and twisted person. I've done so much wrong.

I came back to myself, the classroom again, all around me people are starting to make sounds of distress, and confusion, one girl in the corner is crying. The old me would have sneered but I can't now. I'm no predator, no hero, just a coward, a bully, a bitch.

My stomach feels like lead, I bolt to the trashcan at the front of the room and empty my stomach into it.

I can't take this.

I can't deal with this, I can't just sit here, I need to move, to run, to get away!

Without a thought or a care I slip into my shadow state and out of the building. I take off at a run. I don't care where I'm going I just need to go, to get away from this.

I'll run, however long it takes to forget and put this behind me I'll run.


	3. Oni-Lee

Guilt: Oni-Lee

I stand; calm, emotionless, ready. Just as I always do when Kenta has no need of me.

It is all I have left, I am his assassin his second in command. I am all of these things, and nothing more.

I have not thought for myself in years and it has been longer still since I felt anything at all. I am the very essence of the cold killer, and yet a single scream otherworldly in its intensity and weight stirs something that so many other screams, and threats and battles have all failed to elicit.

Dread.

For the first time in three years I feel something.

It is not a good feeling, it stings like knife blade. Before I can even come to grips with what I am feeling a new sensation grabs hold of me.

I stare into the face of my own mask as a knife blade slips into my neck, shaky, unpracticed, and rough. I recognize the apartment room. This was my first kill… from the other end of the knife.

As the sensation of hot blood pouring down my chest worked its way through my thoughts an altogether different sensation started to form in the pit of my stomach.

I felt… uneasy.

The scene shifted another apartment, a grenade going off an filling my chest with shrapnel.

Several bullets through the chest.

Severing a man's finger.

With each passing scene the sense of unease grew, until I felt remorse, shame, disgust. Was this really all that my life amounted to a list of people whom I had killed because I had been ordered to?

Strange, normally I would not have cared but now rather than feeling hollow at the thought I felt… a compulsion. A need to redeem myself, to atone to put an end to the cycle I had trapped myself in. In that moment as I found myself bleeding out yet again I felt anger. When I realized what my power was doing to my mind I had entrusted myself to Kenta, let him guide me. If this was all that my life had amounted to clearly I had made the wrong choice.

The emotions are overwhelming after going so long without feeling this disgust this shame this revulsion, burns, it is unbearable, overwhelming all encompassing.

It needs to stop.

Kenta and I, we have done so much damage over the years, it was time to atone for that.

My mind snapped back to my own body in the present day. Shaking off the last of my disorientation I picked up my gear an affixed my mask over my face. It was time for Oni-Lee to make his final appearance.

With quick and measured strides I marched out of my room, down the hall towards Kenta's office. I studiously ignored the members of the ABB I saw as I walked, all of them acted strangely. I was not the only one affected by that scream, but they did not matter, not now. Not bothering to knock I opened the door and stepped inside Kenta's room only to be greeted by a sight I never would have expected to see.

Kenta bent over his small trash bin vomiting.

"Lee, things need to change." Kenta huffed out between gasps for air.

"Yes." A simple statement but I felt no compulsion to elaborate on the thought. Things needed to change and I intended to change them.

"I… I don't know where to begin Lee, there is so much to atone for. I am strong, I have gathered those around us to increase that strength, but I have no purpose Lee, no purpose worth pursuing at any rate."

I nodded but kept my silence. I was glad to hear that my friend realized the depth of his mistakes. Now we could atone for them together.

That thought brings me a small bit of peace.

Atonement. Such a small word for such a large concept, I doubt I will actually be able to atone for all I have done, still I will do what I must.

"We will need to dissolve the ABB. I have amassed a small fortune, perhaps that can be used to somehow make recompense." Kenta said, an edge of hysterics creeping into his voice now.

Beneath my mask I frown. It would appear that once again I have misjudged my old friend. Obviously he has not come to the same conclusion that I have. Still that is alright. I know what must be done, and I can just as easily make the decision for the two of us as I can for myself. After all, that has been my greatest skill for many years now.

"We have done more than enough Kenta, it is time to rest." Only minutes ago that sentence would not, could not, have left my mouth. Now it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

Kenta fixed me with a befuddled look. "Lee, do you not understand we have a great dept to pay? There is no time for us for rest."

Shaking my head I step forward and pull Kenta, my brother in all but blood back onto his feet and embrace him.

"I understand Kenta, but this is how we atone."

In the blink of an eye I teleport three times so that I surround my friend one to each side and without hesitation each of us reaches to the side and pulls the pins on the grenades we wear across our chests.

With one last smile that my friend cannot see my clones and I embrace him. I whisper into his ear. "It is time to rest now my friend. We go now together."

With no warning Kenta will be unable to survive so many explosions point blank.

The calm washes over me fully now. Truly, it is time to rest.


	4. Hookwolf

Guilt: Hookwolf

I looked across the pit and stands from my VIP box. One of our newer recruits worked to clean the blood up from the last series of dog fights. Last night's fights had been particularly entertaining. It was always interesting to see a new challenger dethrone the previous champion.

Leaving my office I took the chance to inspect the cages. We had another fight coming up in week and it's important to make sure there are enough mutts ready and able to fight. After all the crowds had to be kept happy, and where was the fun in things if they had to go home early from a lack of fights?

As I stalked past the cages several of the dogs cringed back, while others snarled or barked. Only one dog, a large Rottweiler, eyed me with caution without backing down. The tag on the cage identified the dog as Scorn.

I'd have to bet on Scorn during the upcoming fights, despite the lack of scars indicating his freshness he had a steely intelligence behind his eyes that would serve him well in the pit. Flashing the dog a feral grin I moved on.

"Ted, don't get those pits too clean, a bit of old blood always puts the mutts on edge." I barked out at my overly enthusiastic new recruit.

"Sorry boss, I'll"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a scream; long and piercing, sharp, a girl, probably young. Hearing the scream caused a shiver to go down my back, a sense of trepidation settled over me.

Memories flood my mind.

Death. That is the only way to describe what I experience, maybe a hundred or more deaths; humans, dogs, that one horse the idiot police officer rode. I feel my flesh ripped apart by blades, my own blades. I feel teeth and claws sink through flesh and fur that are not my own but are simultaneously my own. Pain, so much pain, and now seeing it from the other perspective all of it seems so pointless.

I snap back to my own body. This can't be right. I live for the rush of a fight, for the honor of combat! These things are who I am, I cannot be wrong, they CANNOT BE WRONG! I can feel my arms shaking but am powerless to stop it. I live for combat and honor those things cannot be meaningless!

"B-boss? What was that? I, I don't, I can't…" Ted crumples to the floor and vomits all over my fighting pit. This sniveling wretch thinks he is part of the Empire? Something inside me snaps. It's too much all of this it's too much, I won't accept this, whatever has caused these thoughts this, this _remorse_ I won't accept it I… I will fight this! I will FIGHT! Lashing out I shift one arm into series of blades, knives and hooks with a sweep of my arm pulps Ted above the shoulders.

Another flash as I experience Ted's death, his fear his panic.

NO! NO! I will not accept this! I am a warrior! I have honor! Those things are not meaningless! I will prove it! I will justify myself! I will put an end to whatever this garbage that clouds my mind is! With an incoherent scream of rage I bolt for the door. A quick application of my power combined with a kick and what was once a thick oak door becomes so many wood chips.

I will not allow this to control me! I cannot be wrong! I will find the cape responsible for this, and I will end them! With these thoughts prominent in my mind I launch myself into the city. I shift my arms and face into to blades but otherwise leave my body unchanged as I march down the street into the city.

"Come out you coward! Come out and face me! Stop toying with my mind and face your death with honor!"


	5. Coil

Guilt: Coil

A click of the mouse brings up the latest reports on Merchant activity along the edge of my territory. My men reported fewer sightings of their dealers over the past three weeks. Perhaps they had given up on Charles Street? Of course they could be preparing for a push, but they hadn't attempted a serious push into my territory since the conflict that netted me Charles Street in the first place.

Sadly I had lost my latest informant in their ranks to a shootout between the Merchants and the Empire. It could take weeks or months to get another informant so deeply ingrained into their organization. I could always simply buy the information off of one of them though that rarely worked, the junkies knew the only ones who would sell to their ilk was their own gang that inspired a certain level of loyalty in their ranks. Between that and fear of police or PRT sting operations the gangs tended to blow off bribes out of self preservation.

A cruel smile worked its way across my lips.

That left one rather expedient and enjoyable alternative; after all it had been a few weeks since I last indulged in a bout of stress release.

I split the timeline.

In this timeline I continue to leaf through reports

 **Timeline B**

"Williams," I said into my intercom. "please join me in my office, I have an assignment for you and your squad."

I click open my desk and check to make sure my _tools_ are still where I left them and in good condition. Not a full minute later a knock sounds from the door.

"Enter."

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Indeed I want you to go and _acquire_ one of the merchants mid level member for me to have a discussion with. Here is a list of acceptable targets along with what information we have on them." I said handing him a folder.

 **Both timelines**

A scream echoed hauntingly through the base. From the sound it was a young girl. But that made no sense. There is no young woman on the base so how-

The office faded out of existence.

It was night, screams howls hoots and screeches fill the air in a mad symphony of rage and pain. I'm clinging onto of a ladder hanging from a chopper.

Elisburg, this is Elisburg. The old panic grips me as fresh as if it was the first time. Then something happens something that hadn't happened the first time. A shot rings out, so close that the noise of what must be a small pistol is deafening. Pain blossoms through my chest. My grip slackens on the ladder and I fall backwards.

As I fall out of the corner of my eye I see another man, I see… myself, scrambling up the ladder.

I hit the ground and am immediately set upon by a hoard of abominations, claws teeth and even a pair of tentacles rip into my body.

I scream.

More scenes start to play out. My mercenary's shooting into me in various ware houses while I shoot back with crap pistols or at best a shotgun.

Hundreds of scenes of lives slipping down the drain as they shoot up the product my men sell to them.

Recruiting Tattletale at gun point.

Blackmailing or bribing dozens of public officials.

Being tortured or killed by myself in what I remembered as timelines I had later discarded and a few I had not.

Suddenly I came back to myself in my base, as I did guilt, enough to flatten mountains, settled across my shoulders. It was impossible to think like this!

 **Timeline B**

Williams, his face stony pulled out his side arm. "Sir," he said in a steady voice, "I quit." He placed the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger blowing his brains across my office wall in an eruption of red gore.

Yes. Perhaps that is the way to go about this, anything to escape this sensation. Pulling out my own pistol I place the barrel under my jaw and pull the trigger.

 **Timeline A**

For a moment as my alternate timeline kills itself the Guilt is alleviated, I can breathe and think again. Then the sensation returns stronger than before, trying to escape this guilt by offing myself in an alternate timeline will not save me, it is a delaying tactic at best, but for now it will have to do I need more time to find out what is going on and how to counteract it, I have survived so much I can't let myself die now!

I split the timeline

 **Timeline C**

Taking a knife from my _tools_ I make a long vertical slash down both wrists and start to bleed out, like last time the guilt seems to diminish, with each drop of blood I can think that much easier.

 **Timeline A**

I pick up my phone and call Tattletale. Drumming my fingers in impatience, time is of the essence here I need to know what is happening.

"Boss." Tattletale's voice filters over the phone clearly distressed but not breaking down, good. "It's a master, probably a new one, crazy strong, and if you're calling from where I think you are then their range is unbelievable. Best bet is this is them lashing out as a result of their trigger event, no way of knowing how long the effect will last, it might be permanent for all I know. Grue and I are both working through it so far, but I wouldn't bet on either of us being able to pull a job anytime soon, maybe ever. Bitch has gotten real quite since it hit, I think this gave her some insight into why people or at least the ones who don't abuse dogs shouldn't be used as chew toys. Regent, Regent is fine. Best guess this is too similar to his Dads ability for it to really have any impact on him."

I chewed on that information for a moment. A master this powerful could allow me to run the bay if they could be controlled, but I doubted I could last more than a few hours under this effect. That wasn't enough time to get them under my thumb, it might not even be enough to find the new master!

"Tattletale, I need a location, I need it NOW."

The line went quite, before cackling started to filter over the phone. "You're joking right?! You want me to feed you the location of a master who forces people to feel guilt so you can have her killed! Hah! Even if I could point you in the right direction, which I can't with so little information by the way, I wouldn't! Their power might slam me with enough guilt to make me take a walk off of a high rise if I did that!"

"Besides," she purred, "their power is forcing you to own up to everything you've ever done wrong, how long can you go without caving under that kind of pressure, and eating a bullet. You'll get what you deserve and I'll finally be free of you, you manipulative bastard." My blood boiled plans to murder her slowly blossomed up from the depths of my mind only to be shut down by a fresh wave of oppressive guilt.

I would have to wait out the storm as long as I could and just hope I could outlast the new Master.

With that thought I felt my other Timeline collapse as I finished bleeding out across my office.

Before I could even split the timeline again my office door opened. Standing in the doorway was one of my men carrying an automatic rifle.

"If I kill you… stop you from doing all the terrible things you do… maybe the pain will go away." He stuttered out a self depreciating smile on his lips.

He opened fire.

The bullets ripped through my chest knocking me onto the floor were my blood pooled around me. From the speaker of the phone came the sound of half crazed cackling.


	6. Carl

Guilt: Carl (the emergency response phone line guy)

The phone has been mercifully quite so far today which is always a boring blessing. Then again I'm on the afternoon shift this month which is always quieter.

A scream rips through the building, startling me into spilling my coffee down my front. Working the emergency response line in Brockton Bay the sad truth is that you hear a scream from time to time. You get used to it, or you find a new job. This one sounded young, female, but unlike the screams I had heard in the past this one wasn't terrified, it sounded angry, and… disgusted? But where was it coming from? As I stood up to investigate the source of the scream the world faded away.

Opening my eyes I found myself on the corner of 5th and Broadway, at night, hovering about ten feet in the air. Below me I could see a group of Empire thugs beating on a black man. My blood turns to ice water in my veins. I remember this night. I had stumbled across this scene not long before I graduated from Arcadia. And there I was, I could see myself half a block away frozen in shock. I float towards myself as the younger me pulls out his cell phone and dials 911 before bolting in the opposite direction of the attack.

I had been so afraid at the time, there really wasn't anything more I could have done without getting beaten or killed myself. I had always wondered if it had been enough. As if to answer the question I had spent years asking I turned in the air and watched the beating continue for another minute before the sound of a motorcycle cut through the night. At the sound of it the thugs scattered disappearing into back allies.

Armsmaster pulls up to the street corner and with quick but measured paces reaches the poor man the empire thugs had so recently been beating, and begins to administer first aid. Minutes later an ambulance pulls up and takes the man away. I can hear one of the paramedics tell Amrsmaster that the man will live.

All these years I had wondered. I had spent sleepless nights wondering about that man and now I know, he'd made it, my call had made a difference, he lived. I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks as a true smile spread across my face.

The scene faded. A new one replaced it. A room I was very familiar with but hadn't seen in years. Harley's bedroom, I was seated at the foot of the bed staring into the mirror on the inside of the door, with a phone held up to my ear.

"Harley… I don't want to be the one to tell you this but you need to know… I saw Carl slipping around the docks with that blond girl from PE, Miranda I think." Said the voice on the other end of the phone.

I could feel Harley's emotions the turmoil pain and confusion tearing her up from the inside. I remembered feeling like a genius, thinking I could get away with cheating on Harley. God I'd been such an ass. A day later when she had confronted me and broken down crying in the aftermath I had sworn to never again do something even half that asinine. I'd broken things off with Miranda later that day after Harley had dumped me.

The scene faded to moments of me doing my job, directing emergency responders to the location of people that called in an emergency, I saw the results, criminals caught by the police, people saved, happy moments in their lives that would not have happened if not for the work I and others did. And I felt proud, I did good work.

The scenes faded away and left me with a mix of emotions. Guilt over what I'd done to Harley, fresher than I had felt it in years, but also a new found sense of pride in all of the work I did every day. I smiled and brushed a few tears from my face. I'm no saint I know that, but now I also know that what I do every day matters, maybe not on some grand scale but in the little moments.

The switchboard lit up with lights and from cubicles all around me my coworkers started to answer calls. I answer one of what appears to be a quickly growing number of calls, something big is happening, that much I'm sure off.

"Hello this is Carl, what is the nature of your emergency." I do my best to bury my chaotic emotions under professionalism and am happy that my voice comes out calm and even.

"My… my name is Madison, I'm… I'm a student at Winslow." The girl chokes out between sobs. "Please, please send an ambulance, she's, oh God Taylor, what have I done." The girl becomes impossible to understand as she begins to blubber incoherently.

"Miss please, I'm dispatching an ambulance now but I need you to focus. Tell me what they should expect when they get there. What happened to, Taylor was it?"

"W-we filled her locker with old rotten pads and tampons!" The girl shrieks hysterically. "That was weeks ago, they've just been sitting there all of Christmas break. It was supposed to be funny, b-but then, then Sophia shoved her inside and Emma locked the door!"

I feel sick to my stomach just imagining what the poor girl must have gone through. I can hear retching in the background of the call, followed by panting.

"I-I thought it w-was funny! Oh God, w-why did I think it was funny?! P-please you have to help her! She can't die! I-I need to make this up to her! I don't know what I could d-do b-but…"

The girl goes back to sobbing incoherently. Then the call cuts off. Swallowing back the urge to vomit I warn the EMT I dispatched to be ready for someone suffering from prolonged exposure to biohazard materials.

I want to do more but there are more calls waiting for me to answer.

"Hello this is Carl, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"I need you to connect me to the Protectorate or PRT. My name is Theo Anders… I have information for them regarding my father…"


	7. Skidmark

AN: Wow this took me a long time. It's not that it's long, I just, I dunno my muse moved on and this just seemed less important. I recently got a few people asking when it would update again and I promised I'd take another crack at it soon. Well I did and low and behold my Muse actually churned out what I sat down to write. Brief warning, this post contains allusions to rape along with other miscellaneous nastiness.

this post has been edited since it was first posted, for a more statistically likely rape scene.

read and review.

* * *

Guilt: Skidmark

The sound of some stupid cunt screaming like a dying fuck begging for their mother woke me up at too early in the mother ass-fucking morning. Before I could even start to scream at whoever the fuck was making the racket things got, strange. Like a bad trip on some of the shittier product we pushed on the new recruits.

I was short and, God save me, I had a piss forsaken pussy between my legs instead of my big buddy. The only thing about this that was worth a lizard's shit was the pair a perky C's hanging off my chest.

Music was blaring, a fast beet. Damn I hadn't heard this song since… ah fuck who cares, it's been awhile. The girls head turned scanning the room. It was packed with people dancing and getting shit faced. This place… shiiiiit. This was my old place, from way back when, before the merchants!

The girl looked into a mirror and then I knew where I was, who I was. How was still the million fucking dollar question, but at least it was something. Sammy… the fuck was her last name? T something? She'd hung around some of the same parties I did for a few months, we'd even talked from a bit. Oh man that red dress, that was something I wouldn't ever forget on her, or off for that matter.

Suddenly things spun around like crazy as someone dragged me into a, bedroom? Oh hell yes, I remembered this!

"Sammmmy~" My own voice drunkenly slurred from behind me as sweaty hands groped at my waistline. "Come on girl, lets have some fun."

Protests seemed to die halfway out of my mouth and muscles seemed to freeze up, as my own hands grabbed at me, and my mouths were forcefully smashed together.

There was the familiar buzz of adrenaline running through my system, almost felt like a hit of the good stuff. But it came with a nasty feelin' in the pit of my stomach, like a ball of ice.

When those hand snaked around my back and he goosed my newly acquired assets the feeling only got worse. A lot worse. I remembered this, had enjoyed it even.

I did not enjoy it this time.

When all was said and done I felt sick, and wrong, and used, and by the devil's bloody red dick I didn't have the words.

Then I'm somewhere else, another shit whole ally in this piss poor excuse for a city. I was still white, and now I was fucking short, least I had the right junk tween my legs this time.

Then the sensations hit me. Sweat dripping off of me, my stomach rolling like a pair of cats were fighting inside me, and the shivers. Fucking hell, withdrawal.

For hours, days, God only knows how long, I sat lying in that ally shivering and twitching.

When it finally stopped I was someone else. Bleeding out on cold concrete. I felt it all; the panic, the cold creeping in, I felt it all slip away.

A girl shaking, barely even conscious, an overdose.

Another sucker bleeding out.

Some cunt getting beaten for throwing out her man's stash.

Another withdrawal.

On and on, and on. Hundreds, maybe thousands of poor fucks at the worst moments of their miserable little lives.

A kid robbing a liquor store for enough money to get another hit, gunned down by the shotgun the owner kept behind the register. Bled out before the ambulance even got there.

A girl throwing herself at slime balls she thought were disgusting for some of their stash.

An old lieutenant, Tommy, Kaiser cut him bad, let his gut spill out. It took him an hour to die. He spent the entire time terrified, screaming for someone to help him.

Finally, it ends. I come out gasping for breath, the adrenaline's flowing like Niagara Falls, my heart's pumping like one of Squealer's engines.

I'm me again, but somehow, that leaves a whole new rotten taste in my mouth. Like my skin doesn't quite fit anymore. Like my guts been gettin' used by Rocky for practice. Drowning out all that though. I can feel the withdrawals.

All of them.

It's like having a song stuck in my head, only it's thousands of songs played together all at once. And every song is made of sweat, and pain, and it's played with nails and chalkboards.

I reach out for a full needle but my hands shaking like it's strapped to one of Squealer's toys, and the needle goes sliding across the table and onto the floor.

"Fuck!" No way I can give myself a shot like this, I'll never hit the vein. It's getting worse. I need a hit. I need it now!

Stumbling, I make it to Squealer's dresser. She's prefers Oxy. Even with these shakes I can manage to gag down pills.

I barely get the top off and half the bottle goes skidding along the floor thanks to my shakes. Tilting the bottle back four pills go down faster than thought. It takes a few minutes for that to even take the edge off what I'm feeling, and then I realize what all that was. Everyone who died and suffered because of me, because of the Merchants. The shakes come back stronger.

Another few pills, I'm not sure how many.

It was all on me. Those deaths, hundreds of them, thousands maybe. The rapes, the withdrawal, the murder. All of it was on me.

A few more pills go down.

Why wasn't this working? Why did I still feel like scum scraped off a beggar's ass crack? Why didn't I at least feel numb yet?!

More pills.

Oh God, when would it stop.

I swallowed.

Make it stop!

I tilted the bottle back, but nothing fell onto my tongue. I'd downed half the bottle.

Oh God, it's hard to breath.

Standing is hard. My first step towards the door found me face down on the floor.

It hit me then as I stared at the dirty concrete floor. I'm dying, just like all those other poor fucks. I'm really going to die here.


	8. Panacea

Guilt: Panacea

A scream jolted me from the half asleep state I always found myself in during English class. On instinct my head started spinning looking for whoever was hurt before I realized the scream sounded more angry than injured.

Then things changed.

The familiar antiseptic smell of the hospital filled my nose, the plain white room and bright lites assaulted my eyes. There was dull ache I could feel in my gut, and my thoughts were clouded by pain killers.

"Hi, I'm Panacea, do I have your permission to heal you?"

Turning my head I took in the sight of, myself. I looked years younger, a shy but bright smile graced her/my lips and her/my eyes are filled with anxious excitement. Like I was hoping, begging, for approval, for permission.

Slowly I feel my head nod slightly. Her/my eyes light up with and the smile became more genuine. I can feel my own lips curling up into a slight smile and eyes crinkling slightly.

She/me places her hand over mind and closes her eyes, her brow scrunches cutely in childlike concentrations. Within moments the dull ache slips away. a few more seconds the cloud of drugs limiting my mind slips away as well. In its wake comes a dull full body ache. In another moment that too faded.

Her/my eyes came open in and she smiled nervously down at me in my hospital bed. "I'm sorry I should have taken care of the arthritis before I cleared the pain medicine from your system, but it's gone now and so is the tumor, I gave you a bit of a tune up cleared out your arteries as best I could and," She/I babbled on. I remembered this. This was my first patient. an elderly woman with an inoperable tumor, old and frail enough that radiation therapy would likely have killed her.

Then I did exactly what the elderly women had done. I leaned forward and hugged the awkwardly babbling young girl to my chest and thank her as sincerely as I was able.

She blushed and protested that it was really nothing while I smiled disarmingly and assured her that it meant the world to me until she finally shyly declared she had more patients to see too. She waved back at me as she was lead from my room.

Memories blurred then Family and friends celebrating my miraculous recovery, with a big party another two years of watching my children grow and start families of their own. Then one memory among all the blurring ones faded into sharp focus.

"Mom," A young man probably in his early thirties addressed me. In his arms was a bundle of pink cloth. "I'd like you to meet your granddaughter. Say hello to Julia." His smile was warm and proud as he gently placed the tightly wrapped bundle of my/her newborn granddaughter in my arms. The girls tiny eyes are screwed tightly shut as she fussed lightly at being moved.

And I beamed. This was without a doubt one of the happiest moments of my/her life. I felt tears prickle at the edge of my eyes as I stared into the beautiful granddaughters face.

"She's beautiful Johny. Thank you Panacea." I heard my mouth mumble. "For getting me to this day."

The words sent me reeling. This was because of me? She thanked me for this? But I but-

The memories slid along further. I was looking up from another hospital bed. My son, well this woman's son was by my bedside holding my hand with a sad, brave smile on his face. I'd seen a lot of those smiles in my time working in the hospitals. Those were the smiles you gave to someone you knew wasn't long for this world. The brave face they hid behind to reassure their loved ones that they would hold it together once they were gone. Sometimes they wore that smile when they lied to themselves, or when they hadn't come to grips with their impending lose.

I hated that smile.

But this woman, she found it strangely comforting, even amusing. I could feel the twitch of her lips curling ever so slightly upward as she looked over her son. She was at peace with her life. She was at peace with it ending.

As she closed her eyes the last thing I felt was a pair of lips gently brushing my forehead and a warm voice murmuring indistinct reassurances.

My eyes came open again another hospital room this time I felt small. The sight my own hand near the rail of the bedrail confirmed my suspicion. This was a kid's body.

"Hi." Turning I looked up to once more see myself standing there in costume just as young as the first time. "I'm Panacea, I'm a healer and with your permission I'd like to heal you."

I could feel the hope, the joy, and the sheer awe that welled up in this small child's chest.

"...You can really make me better?" The voice was so small and hesitant; like he was afraid it was all a big lie.

I watched a warm reassuring smile spread across my face as I squatted down to be more on level with the child resting in bed. "Absolutely. Won't hurt at all. Just need to touch your skin," A single finger reached out and tapped his nose lightly. "and I'll make you all better." I flashed a warm smile.

When had I lost that smile, that joy in doing what I do?

I could feel the pure _joy_ spread through the kid all over again as he nodded his head rapidly. "Please."

With another warm smile that finger snaked out again to poke at the child's nose and with each passing moment the room seemed to get brighter my/his body seemed to get stronger, and with each passing moment that boundless childhood joy just grew and grew. God it was so, so refreshing!

Somewhere along the line I lost that, I think a lot of people lost that, maybe all of us. I knew from looking at the brains of adults and children that there were fundamental differences. I hadn't really studied much of it, but to feel that difference in action! It's breathtaking.

The memories are a blur. A party, family the exhilaration the little boy felt at the simple act of running. The blur of happy memories is overwhelming.

Things slow down briefly for the first day of school.

"George!" The excited squeal is all the warning I get before I'm tackled by a little blond girl.

"You're all better!" She beamed at me.

"Uh-huh." I could feel the wide smile on my borrowed lips.

"Come on! Miss Sally said we could have cake cuss you're all better! Everyone's waiting!" Taking me by the hand the girl dragged me to a small classroom filled with smiling children happily waiting for their classmate.

More happy scenes flew by some quickly, some more slowly.

Blurry eyes blinked open slowly as the room came into focus, another hospital room.

"Hi, I'm Panacea. Do I have permission to heal you?" God I looked so happy right then.

"That'd be great, please." My borrowed body said tiredly.

Third patient on my first day, I think? Car crash or something, lots of blunt force trauma, she was eighteen or nineteen? Something like that.

This time I'd healed her with much less fuss and headed on to the next room with a simple wave and a smile.

The girl's emotions at being healed were far more muddled than the last two. There was relief, and joy, but also a sense of disconnect like she was waiting to wake up and find it was all a dream.

I flashed through memories her parent's relief, her friends support, and one very intimate moment where she and her boyfriend had thrown themselves at one another in relief. Those memories were mercifully less clear than anything else I'd yet experienced. But the memories of the woman basking in the afterglow as she played with a few strands of her lover's hair were startlingly clear. It was an interesting sensation. She was tired and giddy and content all at once.

On and on the experiences went; seeing all the things people got to do and experience because I had healed them. It was beautiful and surreal in a way that was beyond me to explain. All those hours spent healing, becoming numb to the pain and suffering around me I'd lost track of just what my healing meant to those I'd healed, just how much good I'd done.

Years of experiences, compressed and fast forwarded through with certain moments slowing down so I could fully appreciate them. Each was its own beacon of some kind of positive emotion. It was breathtaking, beautiful, humbling. I'd never been very religious but right then I felt like I'd been blessed.

When the last of the visions faded, I started laughing. It was honest and warm and it had been so long since I'd last laughed like this that it felt alien to my ears. I was vaguely aware that I was crying but I didn't particularly care.

Forget Carol and her paranoia. Forget that my powers could end the world with little more than a thought. I'm a hero. I'm a healer. I'm God damn amazing!

So I laughed, and I cried at the beauty of it all; at the relief, at the simplicity of everything.

I'm Happy.

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AN: You have no idea how good it felt to finally write this one. Remember to leave a reviews! For just as a healer takes joy in seeing the result of their work so to do writers.


	9. Purity

AN: don't own worm.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who left a review of the previous post. Hearing so much positive feedback for it meant a lot to me. Hearing that I managed to get a few tears out of some of you is a bit of a milestone for my abilities as a writer. So especially thank you for those who shared that with me. When I first started writing I never expected to accomplish that. Knowing I have gives me real hope that one day I'll be able to publish my own original work. Again, thank you, and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.

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Guilt: Purity

The city streaked by beneath me. Chaos was an apt description, even more so than usual.

Car accidents everywhere, most minor but several seemed looked like they could be fatal. I had passed the aftermath of at least three jumpers. Gang members stumbled almost drunkenly around the streets as if in a daze. Amongst it all people, completely normal everyday people went from person to person apparently trying to help.

Madness.

The whole city had been turned on its head by what seemed to be a single parahuman.

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine and my head jerks a bit trying to shake the painfully fresh memory of reliving the moral high and low points of my life. Unsurprisingly the lows are in the vast majority.

Still there are some highpoints. Getting out of the Empire to raise Aster, getting Theo some time away from Max and the rest. Taking down members of the ABB and the Merchants. Still not enough high points. The ever present need to do more felt so much more acute now. But there was little I could actually do at the moment with the city falling apart. My powers would not be any help. I'd likely only cause a panic if I did try to help. A year of working solo had done nothing for my reputation as a neo-Nazi.

There had been a time, not long after leaving Max, when things had just been too much… I'd spent quite a few days just holding Aster close. My daughter, my darling little girl had saved me in so many ways.

The pregnancy had forced me off the front lines of Max's gang war. It had given me so much time to think. That had been the beginning. When she was finally born it had all clicked into place. That I was being used, that given half the chance Aster would share the same fate when she reached her teens. As the daughter of two of the city's most powerful capes it was a forgone conclusion what she would someday become.

So she forced me to take action, forced me to change. It had been the best thing that could happen, for both of us. I changed for her, became better for her. But days like this, days when everything was too much holding my baby girl made the load lighter, it gives me hope, and determination to keep moving forward. I need that desperately now.

Leaving work had not been hard. No one was really in any state to get anything done anyway. That said… it had taken far too long after getting away to find a place to discreetly switch identities. Almost half an hour, and as I circled my apartment building for the third time I cursed the lack of places to easily disappear. The daylight, much as it made my power sing, limited my options severely.

I touched down finally in an out of the way ally and let the blinding glow of my power die down. A ten-minute jog during which I passed countless people moving about in a daze, or openly weeping. People clinging to one another to offer or give comfort. A hand full of car wrecks and the usual state of grime that coated the city made for an eerie backdrop.

Truly this was a side of the city I'd never seen before, something I would never, could never, imagine.

I moved as quickly as I could through the chaos and confusion.

Ten minutes later I was finally outside my apartment when what I saw stopped me cold. The door was open. Just a crack, but it was open. Cold fear washed over me and I threw the door open fully.

Standing in the middle of the room was Max, gently rocking my Aster.

The bastard glanced up and looked me in the eyes with a strange expression on his face. An expression I could not place. I wanted to attack him, to get my baby away from him. But I can't not with him holding her. I can't risk hitting her! I could scream in frustration right now if I wasn't so terrified I could startle Max into doing something rash.

The entire city is on edge, pushing someone with power while they held my child could only make things worse. I moved slowly, muscles tensed and ready to move at any provocation. A slight glow emanated from within as my powers fought my control to be unleashed.

"The sitter?" I did not honestly care what the bastard had done to the poor thing but it is a nice safe question to open with and get a feel for Max's mood and intentions.

"Unconscious, but fine. I left her in the kitchen." Max replied calmly, almost dazedly, like his attention was a million miles away. I nodded slowly keeping myself from any sudden moves. At least he had not killed the poor girl. That was a positive sign, albeit a small one.

"What are you doing here Max?"

"Hmm? Oh yes… I, I came to see my daughter… She truly is beautiful; you have taken wonderful care of her." Max's words send a shiver down my spine. "The scream… It was an, interesting experience." Max said. "So many things I held as necessary, or just, all turned on its head… It is the work of a Master of course, but somehow knowing that does very little to help."

I could only nod my head mutely.

"So many poor choices, so many victims. I know I've never cared about them before, and yet now… It was tempting to simply step out of my office window. But there was some good mixed in with the bad. It is truly amazing how many people a pharmaceutical company can help." Max chuckled dryly. At no point in his speech did he ever take his eyes off of Aster.

"I got a call from Theo not to long after I managed to convince myself jumping out my window would not fix anything. He wanted to let me know that he had informed the PRT of my other identity. Said he felt he owed more to my victims than to I." Max chuckled dryly. "And to think I once considered the boy a coward."

That made two of us. I honestly could not belief the boy had the spine to do something like that.

Finally, Max looked up and stared me in the eye. "I wanted to see my daughter one last time."

"One last time?" I asked trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible even as I built up a strong tightly packed burst of light in my right hand. If push came to shove, I would vaporize Max's head. At this range he would not have the time to dodge or form a shield.

Looking back at Aster Max nodded his head distractedly. "Yes. One last reminder that I got at least one thing right before I leave the city."

Slowly gently Max stepped up to me and handed Aster over. I held her close never breaking eye contact with Max as he bent slightly at the waist to kiss our daughter on her brow. With a tired smile Max stepped back and picked up a duffle bag, his bug out bag if memory served.

"Take care of her and Theo, and take care of yourself Kayden."

Without so much as another word Max left.

I'm not sure how long I spent there in my apartment just holding Aster close and reassuring myself that we were both alive and unhurt, that things would be alright. In the end I suppose it doesn't matter. I could easily have stayed that way until the end of the world.

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Read and Review


	10. James

AN: don't own worm. This one has been a struggle. First it was going to be Piggot, but I still can't write her, then it was going to be Armsmaster, but that asshat still gives me writer's block. Then it was going to be Miss Militia, but for the life of me it just didn't seem to come together in a way I was happy about. Finally, I said to hell with the capes and established characters! So now you get officer McLagan of the Brockton Bay Police Department.

Once again I want to thank you all for being amazing.

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James McLagan (BBPD)

Capes.

It's always the fucking capes.

Prostitution ring kidnapping girls off the street to be _trained_? Can't go after them because they have a _serial_ suicide bomber and a fucking dragon backing that shit up.

Kids getting forcibly addicted to crack and speed and God only knows what else? Step lightly or a man made out of garbage will drown you in filth.

A black man getting beaten to death in the street? You step in you take your life in your hands because a punk with a gun is the very least of your worries.

People like to pretend that it's all okay because we have _heroes_ on our side to balance that shit out.

It doesn't. They don't walk the beat with us. They don't make it there in time to bail us out if we get in over our heads. And they sure as hell don't keep us and our families safe at night from worries of reprisals when we clock out at the end of the day.

No being a cop in this city is a lot like being a model. You stand around getting paid to look good, and you hope to hell you don't attract the attention of anyone unstable.

Helping a woman and her kid out of a car wreck I know down to my bones I can blame this on a cape too.

The memory of what I'd seen rises up again and I do my best to swallow back bile. Most of it was alright, good even. I'd helped people during my career despite how pointless it could sometimes feel in the face of the gangs. But there were three moments in my career, in my life, that stung like a bitch to relive.

Capes, God damn capes.

I'd had to sit on my hands or run for my life instead of doing my job three times because of fucking capes. Every single time someone who didn't deserve it got hurt, or the bastards walked off with whatever they'd been after without any fucking resistance. They got to do that because normals fighting the capes is a death sentence. Even if you get lucky and bring the bastard down there are always who knows how many others that'll be out for your blood. And there aren't any unwritten rules to protect cops. Sure if they push too far the public outcry might bring the Protectorate down on them, but that tends to blow over after a while. Then it's back to business as usual.

Besides, that was only if they handled it personally, and why would they need to? That's what dumb shits with guns and no brains are for. Harder to ID the killer and absolutely nothing about it that can force the PRT or Protectorate to actually step up.

So I'd kept my head down. I made sure I would be safe, that my family would be safe.

So why did the damned fucking cape have to drag up all that old guilt?

I'd been through this all dozens of times. With my buddies on the force, with my wife, hell even with a shrink a few times! Lord knows I'd spent some sleepless nights thinking about that one poor bastard the Empire had caught up with after I got the order to back off and wait for the Protectorate.

Cursing myself for getting distracted in the middle of all this I moved on to the next person in need of help. An old man who lost his balance during the citywide freeze up or whatever the hell that was. Poor guy was nursing a nasty looking cut on his forehead.

Before I can start looking for a makeshift bandage I hear something that turns my guts to ice.

Screaming.

"Fuck!" With a muttered apology to the old man I took off in the direction of the screams.

A minute later I almost wish I hadn't.

Hookwolf. The bastard was… Well it looked like a drunk trying to run and only half succeeding. His arms were covered in knives and blades but the rest of him still looked human.

Every few steps he would take a wild swipe at a person or car and all the while screaming obscenities and challenges.

In that moment training kicked in and I started directing and shoving people away from the lunatic. They didn't need much prompting.

I was halfway turned around and ready to keep the crowd moving away when a scream caught my attention.

There laying on the ground mostly hidden by a car wreck was a young blonde woman with a clearly broken leg. Naturally Hookwolf heard her and was marching towards her screaming death threats.

Fuck, fuck fuckitty fuck!

The memory of a broken body left behind after I had sat and waited for cape backup plays across my vision.

My gun is out and pointed at the bastard before I even realize what I'm doing.

"Hey, Blender Bitch!"

I'm going to die. I can't believe I just said that! I'm going to die!

Snarling Hookwolf spins to face me, and I don't hesitate.

The bullet hits him on the left side of his chest, too low for it to have hit the heart but probably a lung.

For a moment everything freezes… And then I squeeze the trigger. Then I keep squeezing it. I don't stop until the soft click tells me I've emptied the clip.

Holly shit, I'm not dead.

Holly shit, I just killed Hookwolf!

I slump over resting against the hood of a car as the adrenaline bleeds out of my system. There is a lot going through my mind but it's all a bit hard to focus on through the sense of… approval? Is that what I'm feeling?

God I'm tired.

Shaking my head, I force myself back to my feet and put away my gun.

"Come on miss, let me take a look at your leg." I offer to the rather stunned, injured woman.

I wonder if I can get a transfer to New York PD? Might be best not to stay in town after this.

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AN:

Not entirely happy with this one for a lot of reasons but really I needed to wrap up where I left off with Hookwolf, and I needed to put this one behind me so I could move on to the conclusion and the very likely epilogue. Read and Review please and thank you.


	11. Emma

AN: _**READ THIS:**_ I want you all to know that from the moment this became more than a one shot this was the intended conclusion. I know some of you will hate it, but this is the ending I want to write. It just feels right to end it on this note.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have.

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Guilt: Emma

I stood at the fringe of the group with a hoodie I'd forgotten about scrounged from my locker and pulled low hiding my face and hair. I wasn't sure what people's reaction to me might be right now, but I was aware enough to know it wouldn't be very pleasant. Most of the crowd had drifted off once they realized there was nothing they could do anyway.

Taylor had spent the past hour since the scream drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes she would scream, sometimes she cooed happily, mostly she coughed and shivered.

She shivered a lot. The nurse kept mumbling about shock and tried to keep her bundled up in a small mountain of blankets. If the worried frown on the woman's face was anything to go by it wasn't working as well as she would like.

This was my fault. I'd sided with Sophia and spent a year and a half driving my best friend into a near suicidal depression. Then I helped cram her into a locker full of rotten blood and things that did not bear thinking about.

I'd lived it. Every taunt, every trip, every stolen bit of homework, every moment, _every second_ she spent in that filth.

I got to experience my ex best friend losing all hope in fast forward, and it was all my fault.

At first I cried, I almost tried to deny it but the feeling of guilt swelled up and crushed that before it could build up any steam. Now I was sitting here feeling numb and guilty, guilty and numb.

I honestly didn't know what to do except for staying as close to Taylor as I could manage. What else could I do?

The sound of Taylor giggling shook me from my thoughts. "Clean, so much cleaner." The girl giggled though her voice rasped unpleasantly from all the shouting she did earlier. From when I trapped her in her locker. God, why did I do that? I sighed. I guess if I'd been stuck in that filth I'd be happy to be cleaner too.

"The city is so much cleaner now!" She crowed.

The… city? What the hell?

"Can you see it?" She asked the nurse with a rapturous expression on her face. "There as so many fewer bad people now. Gone, gone, gone~ Dead and gone~" she sang before breaking down into giggles that changed into coughs which shook her whole body.

When the coughs subsided she just giggled again lightly. "And the rest, the ones who just stood by and let things slip, the ones who just accepted everything wrong." she broke of her train of thought to giggle again. "They're so helpful now! All they needed was a little push."

H-how? How could she know what was going on? She'd been mostly unconscious since the beginning?! A seed of an idea started to grow at the back of my mind but before I could chase it Taylor spoke up again.

"I did it! I really did it!" She giggled.

God whatever the nurse had given her was really messing her up. Did some merchant in the school offer her their stash to help out?

"I'm a real hero!" She crooned sounding pleased even as the words made things start to click into place for me. With the realization came the sensation of ice being dumped across my back. "First day as a hero and the city is already a better place! The gangs of gone, gone, gone~" she said starting to sing again before another series of coughs shook her body.

The nurse tried to shush her, to gently calm her down as she tucked the blankets in tighter around Taylor's shivering body.

It worked, at least for the moment. Taylor seemed to calm down slightly and subsided into soft mutters and little giggles. "I'm a real hero, a real hero." She murmured.

She was the one who screamed. She was the cape making everyone feel guilty. Somehow she was keeping tabs on all of us, on what she was doing. Though she didn't seem to be all there at the moment.

Still the gangs, just gone? All from guilt? It seemed impossible. But then again… How many lives would they be feeling guilt over ruining? How many actual deaths did they have on their hands?

How guilty would I feel if…

"Should have helped me sooner." Taylor slurred to the nurse. "Was in your office often enough for you to know something was wrong." The nurse reeled back like she'd been slapped and tears started to run down her cheeks. "You and the other teachers, had to know, but never stepped in. Don't know why, can't see the why. Why, why, why? Can't see the why. Just the action, the inaction too. Can't see the why, wonder why~"

She broke out into more giggling coughs. The Nurse must have given her something _really_ strong.

"So much to see, so hard to focus on anyone. Maybe that's why, can't focus." She mumbled before closing her eyes. Her breathing started to even out a bit though she was still coughing a bit even in her sleep, and despite the blankets she shivered constantly.

It took another ten minutes for the paramedics to arrive. They cursed to themselves about only having the one life star chopper in the city and about the roads seemingly all being blocked with accidents.

Ten minutes after they left with Taylor the oppressive feeling of guilt disappeared.

In that moment I knew two things; Taylor had been the source of the scream, of all the guilt, and I was now partly responsible for the death of the girl I once called my best friend.

Then the guilt came back. Real guilt. Guilt that came _from_ me rather than guilt that was _applied_ to me. The difference was impossible to explain. Like the difference between two shades of white, or two different brands of cola.

With a hiccup I broke down crying again.

{}{}{}{}

I hadn't done much in the past two days. Hell most of the city wasn't doing much. Casualty and injury reports kept piling up. There were rumors that a bunch of people had gotten powers because of the scream and gone straight to the PRT, with more rumors that it would mean at least twice as many new capes who had not come forward. Still that was all from the PHO boards so it was hard to say how much of it should be taken seriously.

Schools had been shut down for at least the rest of the week and so many people were calling in sick to work that it was almost as if the whole city had declared a national holiday just to stay home and drink or eat chocolate. That or whatever everyone else did to cope with, well whatever you wanted to call Taylor's power.

My method revolved around large tubs of Ben and Jerry's. It wasn't really working.

Dad had left the news running ever since we had all gotten home, no one had really been ambitious enough to argue about changing it. Mostly I tuned it out and looked over the PHO boards from my phone. Someone had started a page for victims of the attack to talk about what happened to them. It was a mess. Dozens of people talking about things they saw, some of them sticking to facts, some broke down and just hit the max word count typing things like 'I'm sorry', a lot of people said it dragged up things they were not proud of and left it at that.

Sophia hadn't gotten in touch with me since it happened. I'm really not sure what happened to her.

"Hello? Heeelllooooo~" The voice was different enough from the droning backdrop of the news that it forced me to look up. There on my tv screen was a blond girl in a purple costume smiling foxily back at me.

"Well hi there Brockton Bay! My name, or at least what I'm going by for now, is Tattletale. See some friends and I were previously in the employ of Coil, who thanks to a certain traumatic incident we are all familiar with, was shot by one of his own men. I find that rather poetic because the only reason I worked for him is he threatened to kill me otherwise." She said smiling brightly.

What the hell?

"Normally I wouldn't choose to put my team and I at risk for something like this, especially since we're not really sure what we plan to do next. But given it's been two days, and the PRT haven't said anything other than they are investigating, combine that with the fact that they already ID'd the fresh trigger that caused all this and that they plan to spin things in their favor… oh right I should probably mention I hacked into their systems to find out this stuff. Woops." She said giving a carefree shrug.

Really? Was this girl seriously admitting to hacking the PRT, _now_ after everything that had happened?

"See the poor girl who's responsible for all this, what are they calling her again? Karma? Jiminy Cricket? Or have they settled on that S-class name people have been kicking around, Anubis? Well she's dead." The capes face became serious as she said that.

"One girl turned the whole city upside down in less than an hour immediately after getting her powers, then died before she likely even understood what she was doing while in the back of an ambulance. Every parahuman gang leader in Brockton Bay is dead or gone thanks to that girl. I know she caused a lot of collateral damage. I know a lot of people who didn't deserve it got hurt, but she did more for this city in one hour than all the _heroes_ have since they first set up shop here."

"She saved a lot of people. She saved me from Coil. So I owe her one. So whatever they say, whatever they want you to think… I want you to remember. She forced us to judge ourselves based on what we have done, and then she let us decide what we wanted to do about it. So remember that she was a person, not some monster, not some villain, just a scared teen named Taylor who got a terrible ability."

I could feel the tears starting to streak down my face again. As the girl sighed tiredly.

"So yeah, whatever you do… don't let her be remembered as a monster. Her name was Taylor, and she deserves better than that." With a hand gesture the video cut out and an image proclaiming the station was experiencing technical difficulties appeared

{}{}{}{}

That was how things had started to completely fall apart.

PHO jumped all over Tattletale's impromptu news broadcast, and people started asking questions. What are trigger events? How do trigger events happen? How often do capes accidentally hurt someone or break things when they have just triggered? And most importantly of all, could anyone find proof of Tattletale's claims?

Then clues started rolling in from all corners. Turns out the infamous Void Cowboy went to Winslow. He confirmed the Taylor Hebert a student at Winslow had been trapped in her locker by bullies and that the locker had been filled with month old used feminine hygiene products. Of course his words were more along the lines of 'stuffed in there with old bloody garbage' but as more people backed up his claim the details started to come out.

Then someone with connections to the hospital Taylor was being taken to came forward to confirm that a 15-year-old named Taylor Hebert had died on the way to the hospital approximately an hour after the scream do to complication caused by blood poisoning, and that the initial call stated she had been trapped in close proximity to bio-hazard material for an extended period of time.

Then my name came out, along with Sophia's and Madison's.

And suddenly people weren't blaming Taylor for what happened. Sure a lot of people who lost loved ones in traffic accidents or whatever were still pissed, but the general feeling was that the people who caused her trigger were responsible for all the accidents, and Taylor was responsible for how many fewer villains and gangs the bay now had.

It didn't make any kind of logical sense. But that didn't really matter when the whole city was running on emotional overload.

I was standing on the roof of an old abandoned high rise looking over the latest news on my phone. I'd been ignoring texts and phone calls all night. I finally saw what I had been expecting, a link to a press release declaring that the police had a warrant for the arrest of several of the students and staff from Winslow. They didn't give any names, but everyone already knew who they meant.

I shutdown my phone and looked out over the city. From this high up I could see a lot.

Glancing down I couldn't help but think.

It's just one small step.


End file.
